


Slutbox Variation

by EndlessStairway



Series: Slutbox and alternatives [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate chapters, M/M, Messed up power dynamics, Punishment, Read Slutbox first (at least until chapter 50), Slave Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessStairway/pseuds/EndlessStairway
Summary: Alternative chapters from Slutbox. This won't make much sense as a standalone if you haven't read Slutbox to at least chapter 50.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Slutbox and alternatives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055036
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 51 - Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> These are the "alternate" chapters from Slutbox, starting from Chapter 51. I took these down from the main story because I wasn't happy with them as part of the story, but they served a purpose and I got requests to re-post, so here they are!

Loki woke up, confused and bleary-eyed, when Stark opened his door, letting it bang on the opposite wall, jerking him from restless sleep.

“Come,” Stark ordered, pointing down the hallway. Loki rolled off the bed at once, hurrying after the man as he strode back towards his own spacious suite. The door to the room Loki feared looked the same, firmly closed and solid as ever, but Loki could not shake the feeling that something had changed. The air felt different, and he did not slow his steps as he followed Stark, fearing to be left behind to pass that door by himself.

“You know what to do,” Stark said, gesturing to the bed. He went to the bathroom, leaving Loki to undress, which he did, stripping off the loose pajamas that he lived in now. Perhaps Stark would allow him some day-wear, if he asked politely? Loki shut that thought down at once. He had asked Stark for enough, lately, and he had been denied. Asking for more would not endear him, and Stark seemed in a bad enough mood.

Perhaps Thor had broached the topic of Loki’s binding with him. Loki couldn’t help but hope there was some other cause for Stark’s mood, because it would not bode well for the outcome of such a conversation. But of course, knowing his luck, Thor had angered Stark with his request, and then left to let his brother face the consequences.

The blinds were open in Stark’s room, and the nighttime lights of the city cast a faint glow over the room, the bed, and Loki himself. He climbed up and arranged himself on the bed as he had become accustomed to - on hands and knees, ready for Stark’s use. He waited there while Stark lingered in the bathroom, the small sounds of movement and water running ramping up Loki’s already unsteady state of nerves. Why had Stark rejected his offer in the lab only to summon him now? Why had he summoned him if he was not ready for him? Just to make him wait?

Maybe that was true. Having a slave wait may be appealing to some, but Loki had not thought Stark would toy with him in such a way. His mind flashed back to his ordeal with the legionnaires, and he swallowed past his suddenly dry throat. Stark was capable of a lot more than merely toying with him, if he had a mind to.

The man reappeared in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “So, you enlisted your brother to harass me about letting you off your leash. Did you really think that would work?”

Loki cringed. He had nothing to defend himself with. There was no defense he could make, because Stark spoke the truth.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wishing that he was not naked and on Stark’s bed for this scolding. “I...I am sorry. I only wanted to help.”

“Did you, really.” Stark approached the bed, his tread measured and even. “You don’t think doing what you’re told would be more helpful? You don’t think giving me even a day to think about it before getting Thor to berate me would be more helpful? Have I not done enough for you, Loki?”

“I’m sorry,” Loki repeated, hanging his head, Stark's cold tone drilling into his nerve like an ice-pick. All thoughts of helping, or being able to use his powers fled from his mind, replaced only by terror that Stark was going to get rid of him. He could, and they both knew it. He could call the Grandmaster's name and trade Loki back to him anytime he wanted.

Stark pulled his leather belt out of the loops of his pants, and Loki breathed out a sigh of relief. Stark was only going to beat him. Loki could take that manner of punishment, and he would not make such a mistake again.

Stark slapped the belt against his palm. “Knees apart.” He waited until Loki spread his legs to his satisfaction, exposing his intimate self - his genitals, his hole, the soft flesh of his inner thighs.

“What are you sorry for?” Stark climbed up on the bed to stand over his disobedient slave. He grabbed a handful of hair and turned his face down toward the bed. He did not like Loki looking at him, and Loki at once corrected himself.

“For disobeying you.” Loki bit his tongue as Stark bought the belt down between his thighs six times in quick succession, whipping his most tender flesh, hitting the same spot each time, layering the blows until Loki tasted blood in his mouth.

“Explain.”

Loki tried to focus, his head swimming with shock and pain. Stark was Midgardian, his strength was nothing compared to that of an Asgardian, or even a Jotun like Loki, but with aid of the belt and with Loki’s utter defenselessness to this punishment, it was agonizingly effective. One of the blows had sliced across the head of Loki's cock, the rough edge of the belt cutting into him, and the raw, throbbing pain of that spot almost drowned out the burn of the rest.

Loki held his position, licked his lips and forced himself to speak, his voice shaking.

“You told me no, and I should have accepted your decision. I should not have told Thor.”

Six more blows, and Loki fell to his elbows, his face buried in the blanket to muffle his scream. He longed for the restraints, for a gag, for anything other than Stark’s command to keep him here, legs spread for this torture.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, clawing himself back to the required position, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Another six, and this time Loki blacked out for a moment, his head spinning, stars dancing before his eyes.

“Please, please, I’m sorry! I will never disobey you again, please!”

“Get up.” Stark nudged him with his toe. Loki had no choice but to obey, forcing himself to assume the position Stark required, bracing himself on trembling limbs.

“You said that before, didn’t you? When you got off En Dwi Gast’s ship. What promise did you make to me then?”

Loki tried to remember. He had been almost drowned in shame, kneeling naked before the enemies and the eyes of the world he had tried to conquer. What promises had he made?

“I swore I would obey you,” he ventured when the silence had gone for too long.

He was expecting the blows. His answer was inadequate and he knew it, but he simply could not remember what he had said days ago, under such stress. Stark growled at him, and the six additional blows seemed to only increase his frustration with his disobedient slave. Loki’s cries of pain could not be silenced. The lower half of his body was on fire, throbbing with each fresh stripe, a mess of welts and blooming bruises, and there was nothing he could do to help himself.

“Friday, show him.”

Stark tossed the belt aside and yanked Loki’s head up, turning his watering eyes to the screen where Friday was showing the recording. It was himself, viewed from above, the camera looking down at him grovelling in the grass, just as Stark had looked down at him on the day.

He heard his own words again, words that had proved to be false:

_ Stark, I beg you, I beg you, please, you will not want for a more obedient slave than I. I will serve your every whim. I will never complain, never refuse you, never cause you the slightest trouble… _

Loki bowed his head, but Stark was not done with him.

“Have you kept your word, Loki?

Loki shook his head. He had not. He had not. He had taken Stark’s kindness and his mercy and he had thrown it in his face. He had thought he had known better, he had spoken ill of his master behind his back. He was a bad slave, and he deserved this punishment and much, much more.

“Master, I beg for your forgiveness,” he whispered.

“You don’t have it,” Stark retorted at once. “I don’t forgive you. It would have been so, so easy to leave you with En Dwi Gast. It would have taken no effort at all, and I would still have my legionnaires.”

Loki nodded. It was true. Stark had paid for him and the trade had not been worth it. If only there was something Loki could do, something he could offer, but of course, he could not. He was nothing and he had nothing. He was Stark’s creature, his toy, he pet, and he could not even do that right.

Stark grabbed him by the hair and dragged him off the bed. The fall rubbed every one of his raw nerves, the newly striped skin of his thighs, the bruised and puffy flesh of his balls, the sore burn of his hole, and the raw agony of his cock, tender and swollen. He bit down on his scream of pain, and crawled when Stark brusquely ordered him to.

They stopped in front of the door. The Door. The door that terrified Loki more than anything or anyone, The door that held the box. Stark made him face it on his knees, as though he were worshiping it, or about to be sacrificed to it. Icy streams of air seeped from under it like the swells of the rip-tide, eagerly wrapping around Loki's legs, welcoming him, a tender morsel for the box to devour.

“You promised,” Loki gasped, his throat dry with horror, his heart shuddering in his chest, the rhythm broken and failing. "You promised you would not!”

Stark yanked his hair again, his anger seemingly undimmed by whipping Loki’s genitals, by bringing him to sobs of pain and fear. “You broke  _ your  _ promise to  _ me _ ,” he said, “So we’re done with promises. I’ll give you a threat instead. If you do anything to fuck this up, anything that means En Dwi Gast doesn’t bring everyone back, anything that risks the lives of four billion people, I swear to you Loki, I  _ swear  _ to you, I will find you. I will put you in that thing and I will never, ever, let you out.”

Loki looked up, meeting Stark’s furious brown eyes. He saw the fathomless depths of them, the chasms of pain and fear, the losses that Stark had suffered, the knife-edge that he lived on, and Loki knew that he spoke the truth. Stark was clinging to his humanity by a thread. Underneath the surface, the boiling lava of rage and pain pressed at every seam and crack in his heart, waiting for the moment that he would unleash them. All Loki could do was try to stay out of his way.

“I understand, master."

Loki did not make Stark any more promises. He had already shown himself a liar, and there was no point in trying to convince Stark of his honestly.

“Good.”

Stark let him go, and Loki fell to the floor, his fingertips brushing the wood of the door that terrified him so much. He snatched them back, shaking them to rid himself of any contamination, of any lingering hint of the box’s hold on him.

“Go to your bedroom. Stay there until I come for you. Tomorrow we’re going to fix this - " he leaned down and flicked the obedience disk in Loki’s neck, the harsh motion sending a throb of pain through Loki’s nerves. “If you say you can help, we'll see what you can do. But don't forget what I told you. He pointed at the door. "This will be waiting for you, if you disappoint me."

Without another word, Stark strode down the dimly lit hall and back to his own chambers, shutting the door behind him. Loki was left alone in the hallway, and he had orders to follow. He could not stand, so he crawled. Inch by inch, he dragged himself painfully to his room, the throbbing pain between his legs increasing with every movement he made. In the small attached bathroom he soaked a towel in cold water then draped it over the afflicted areas, biting on a washcloth stuffed in his mouth to muffled his sobs of pain.

He did not understand Stark’s final words. He was going to grant Loki his wish anyway? After punishing him so severely for even suggesting it? But as Loki sprawled out on the floor, the high tide of pain gradually ebbing, leaving him gasping on the shoreline, he understood why Stark had done it.

Stark would make his own decisions. He did not welcome interference, not even from his allies. Loki should have kept his mouth shut after he made the suggestion, waited for Stark to consider it and make his final decision. He had been rash, foolish, disobedient. He deserved the whipping Stark had given him, and he would do everything in his power not to earn anything worse.


	2. Chapter 52 - Experiment

Loki did not sleep that night. He could not.

If he dared to close his eyes, he saw the hypnotic swirling blue light that had been his companion in the Grandmaster’s box, and felt the throb and pulse of the box massaging his body, the choking presence of the plug in his in mouth and the gross violation of the dildo in his ass, feeding him and cleaning him, maintaining him like a piece of living meat.

He threw up in the toilet, maybe from the pain, maybe from the formless, heavy mass of fear and distress clawing at his stomach.

The wet towel dried out, and he could not move to re-wet it. His pain ramped up, but it did not matter.  _ He  _ did not matter. Only his master’s will mattered, because that is what could send him back to his living death, or spare him, if he so chose.

He did not know how long he lay on the bathroom floor in the dark. He had been told to wait until Stark summoned him, and so he did. His mind was empty of thoughts. He was a hollow shell, an unfilled glass, waiting for his master to fill him with purpose.

_ Loki, your presence is required in the kitchen. _

Like a re-wound clockwork, Loki jerked into movement. He eased his pajama pants on, breathing deeply through the awakening pain. He did not check his injuries, did not soothe himself with the wet towel. It did not matter that his every movement was agony, that his genitals were whipped raw, that the soft threads of his pajamas were like wire on his flesh. Nothing mattered, except avoiding the fate Stark had offered him - an eternity in the box, his life stripped away and turned into two holes, filled and serviced by the machine, and used by anyone Stark cared to let at him.

Slowly, carefully, Loki limped down the hallway. He looked at the floor, one foot shuffling before the other. He did not raise his eyes to the door as he passed it. He would come there in time. A single misstep, and that door would swing open and consume him whole, swallowing him down like the ocean’s hungry maw.

Loki stood in the kitchen in what he hoped was a pose both deferential and attentive, and waited for his master to notice him. Stark was standing at the counter, a cup of coffee and a glass of juice before him, drinking from both.

Stark glanced up and looked away again. He pointed further down the counter, where a small brown bottle sat, half full of white pills.

“Take two of those,” Stark ordered, his voice rough, as though he had not slept either, “And take two more every four hours. Friday will tell you when.”

Wordlessly, Loki obeyed, swallowing the pills as instructed. He glanced at the label but the words swam before his eyes, unreadable. Of course. The Grandmaster had taken his ability to read, and Stark had not restored it. If there had been a time to ask, Loki had missed it. He was dangling over the precipice now, his feet kicking over the bottomless depths, his fingernails broken and splintering. It did not matter what the pills were for, if Stark wanted him to give him drugs, Loki would take them.

Stark drained his juice and rubbed his eyes. “No one’s here today. I sent them away, but they'll be back. How long until you're all healed up?”

Loki considered carefully. He had been hurt before, injured accidentally and deliberately. He had been tortured, burned, and beaten. He would heal quickly, given the chance to rest. By tomorrow, he would be able to hide any hint of Stark’s discipline from the other Avengers. He bowed his head.

“I will be healed by tomorrow morning.”

Stark nodded. “OK. I hope I don’t have to tell you to keep this between us.”

“Yes, master.” Loki agreed at once, as though he would dare to speak to his brother again. Anything more than a polite greeting was too dangerous to contemplate. Silence was better.

A pinch on his arm brought Loki’s attention back to the present, and he realized Stark had the uru needle in his hand. He had injected him with another dose of medicine to dislodge the eggs. Loki had not even thought about that, and he was pathetically grateful that Stark had not withdrawn that favor from him. After his terrible behavior the day before, being forced to nurture and birth the last batch of crogall eggs would be little more than he deserved.

“Drink up.”

Loki took the bottle that Stark gave him, already open, and lifted it to his lips. He kept his mind as blank as possible. Stark would tell him what to think about, and Loki did not need to concern himself with it until he received his next order. When the bottle was empty, he held it in his folded hands, waiting for Stark to tell him what to do.

“Ready?”

Loki did not know what he was expected to be ready for, but of course he said, “Yes, master.”

He limped after Stark at a respectful distance, first to the elevator, and then to the lab and the space hung with plastic sheets.

This time, there was no debate. Loki lay on the bed and Stark strapped him down - ankles, thighs, hips, chest, and wrists. The thick restraints held him flat on his back as Stark turned on the scanner. Instead of the usual image of the inside of Loki’s body, his intestines and the eggs, the scanner showed the obedience disk and the spider-web fine network of filaments that spread through his nerves and capillaries - the disc’s control system embedded in his body. Loki closed his eyes, sickened at the sight.

“Painkillers helping?” Stark muttered from the side of his mouth as he worked, as though the words were inconsequential, as though he did not want to acknowledge that they had passed his lips.

Painkillers? Loki fell back into his body for a moment. The pulse of pain between his legs was dulled, even after walking behind his master from the penthouse to the lab. He stared up at Stark, stunned by the mercy that he showed.

“Yes, master,” he whispered through dry lips, ‘Thank you, master.”

"OK. Let's not…. That's done with. Yesterday. It's the past." Stark spoke awkwardly, his hands stuttering on the scanner, and Loki nodded his agreement. It was in the past. He had been wrong and Stark had corrected him. He had learned his lesson and he would not repeat such mistakes. Today would be different.

Loki lay as still as he could while Stark examined him. Even with the effect of the painkillers, Loki was uncomfortable. He wanted to shift his position, to ease his thighs apart and give his hot and swollen flesh room to breathe, but he did not. He did not even think of asking for permission. He lay where he was put and waited for Stark to tell him what to do next.

He had lost track of time, floating in place, his mind as empty as ocean foam, when Friday spoke into the charged silence.

“Loki, it’s time for your medication.”

Stark looked up, irritated to be disturbed, and Loki did his best to vanish into the padded bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Loki licked his dry lips. His crotch was throbbing, pain pulsing through him with every beat of his heart. He kept his voice as steady as he could.

“I am well, master.”

Stark nodded. “Good. I want to try something before we go back up.”

“Of course, master.” Loki’s words floated from his lips, but Stark did not hear them. He was already back at his screens, frowning at the complex web of filaments and neurons that made up Loki’s nervous system - the one he was born with, combined with the one the Grandmaster had given him. Stark muttered to himself as he tapped on the screens, setting up whatever test of the obedience disk that he thought Loki should be able to endure.

“OK. This should work. Friday’s going to run one more simulation and then we’ll try it. Still feeling OK?”

“Yes, master.”

Loki bit his lip to stop himself from asking what Stark was going to do to him. He would find out soon enough and it was not worth angering the man by questioning him. He tried to anchor himself, to find a point to look at, or a single pleasant thought to fill his mind, but he could not. He was beset on all side by fear, stress, pain, anxiety, and expectations. He had nowhere to hide from it, and all he could do was lie there and let it wash through him like an endless, churning tide.

“Alright, well, I thought we would start with something simple. A test of fine control. And, I guess, something you might like as well. You’ve been good today, and yesterday was...er....rough. You ready?”

“Yes, master.”

Stark ran a hand through his hair, on edge and flustered, as though unspoken words salted his tongue. Loki tried to shrink down, to make himself smaller and less obtrusive. He wanted to turn himself into a piece of furniture, a piece of lab equipment for Stark to use as he needed to. He was here to serve. He was here to obey. He was here to perform whatever tasks Stark gave him, and if his task now was to lie still and silent for Stark to conduct his experiments, he would do that to the best of his ability.

“Friday, go ahead.”

Loki flinched. The reaction was instinctive and he regretted it at once, but the expected pain did not come. Nothing seemed to happen except a slight twinge behind his eyes, perhaps a headache forming. Something else that Loki could ignore.

What had Stark done? Had his experiment failed?

Stark pulled the lever to raise the top section of the bed, lifting Loki in a sitting position. He glanced up at Stark, and was taken aback to see the man looking directly at him, meeting his gaze, his face open and curious.

“Well that worked pretty well for a first try,” Stark said to himself, satisfied and smiling.

He rummaged on the table behind him and picked up a piece of half-shaped metal, dull on one side, but smooth and golden on the other. He held it up in front of Loki’s face, and Loki gasped at what he saw.

His mirror image blinked back at him, but instead of unnatural white, his shocked eyes were bright emerald green.

Stark had given his eyes back.


	3. Chapter 53 - Decision

Stark did not wait for Loki’s stammered words of gratitude.

Why should he? What he did to Loki was his choice, and Loki’s opinion about it - good or bad - was irrelevant.

While Loki was still finding his tongue, Stark released the restraints and waited while Loki gingerly climbed off the bed. His injuries tore at him as he moved, and although he tried to hide it, Stark frowned at him.

“You said you would be healed by tomorrow. Doesn't look like you've made much progress.”

Loki did his best to smooth out his expression and prevent any hint of pain from showing on his face.

“I apologize, master. It is a little uncomfortable to move after being still for a long time. That is all. I will be perfectly fine by tomorrow.”

Stark gave him a long look, and if the bed had not been behind him, Loki would have shuffled backwards. As it was, he looked down and hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller.

“Alright, if you say so. Let’s get upstairs and get your pills.”

“Perhaps a topical analgesic will help, boss.”

“Sure, Friday. Why not.”

Loki swallowed his pills, which were waiting on the counter, and was pointed back to his room with a tube of cream. He clenched it in his fist, scurrying past the silent, ominous door and reaching the relative safety of his own room. He remembered the cameras, always watching him, and, as casually as he could, he put the tube on the counter and glanced at the writing on the front.

_ Medi-Fast Triple Antibiotic First-Aid Cream. _

Loki shut his eyes, swaying on his feet, dizzy with emotion.

He could read.

Loki had not allowed himself to feel the pain of that loss, and he had not had time for the full horror of it to become apparent. Each day had brought new and different torments, and the severing of his literacy had been pushed to the back of his mind. But no longer. Stark had given it back, without even knowing that he had done so.

Immediately, a wretched ball of guilt and fear formed in Loki’s stomach. Stark did not know what he had done. He did not know that Loki had lost the ability to read and he did not know that he had given it back. If he found out that Loki had concealed such a thing from him, he would be furious.

_ He’ll put you in the box. He’ll put you in the box. He’llputyouintheboxandneverletyouout. _

Loki turned back to the door, intending to confess to Stark and give him the chance to change his mind, but he only took one step before he stopped. He had been told to apply the cream. Stark wanted him to be healed and the cream would help with that. But if he did not confess immediately he may be punished more. Loki hesitated, torn, but obedience won out. He would apply the cream as fast as he could, then he would confess.

He kicked off his pants and squeezed the cream onto his fingertips. It was awkward, and the feel of the puffy, bruised skin under his fingertips made Loki shudder, sick at the reminder of the belt slamming down on his most tender and unprotected flesh.

_ Discipline is his right. If you had behaved he would not have had to do it. It is his right. _

The cream stung at first, but the sting quickly faded into a cool, soothing wash, that, combined with the pain medicine, made Loki feel almost himself again. He redressed and picked up the tube, the letters clear and condemning under his eyes, and went to find his master.

Stark was not in the living area, so Loki found a corner of the room and knelt there, hands folded in his lap, his stomach churning and anxious, waiting.

“Get up,” Stark snapped, entering from the hallway that led to his bedroom. “Did you take your pain pills? Use the cream?”

Loki scrambled to his feet, fear that he had made another mistake pushing all other thoughts out of his head.

“Yes, master. Yes, I did.”

“Good. Thor’s coming, I tried to stop him but...well…”

Loki nodded, understanding. Thor did not take direction well, and was prone to simply ignoring any instructions he did not like. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed.

“Yes, master. How...what...do you have any instructions for me?”

“Keep your mouth shut,” Stark said at once, then scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head. “No, no, that’s not going to work. Just...watch what you say, OK?”

“Yes, master,” Loki said, the words falling off his lips easily now, so easily, as though he had been born to it. It was a small step, after all, to go from  _ yes, father _ to  _ yes, master _ . It was practically one and the same thing.

Don’t argue, don’t talk back, obey, submit, and survive. That was a lesson Loki had learned in infancy, on the very day of his birth when Odin’s dark tide had rushed over him, wrenching his life into a new direction. Loki had survived that, as he had survived everything that followed. He would survive this, too, finding gaps and loopholes where he could, bowing and yielding when he could not.

From the position of the sun, it was just past noon, but clouds were gathering, casting twilight darkness over the tower. A moment later Thor landed on the balcony in a crash of rainbow light.

“Game face.” Stark muttered, seemingly to himself.

“Loki!”

Thor strode over to Loki at once, casting a suspicious look at Stark as he did. Loki tried to look normal, whatever that was. Thor grabbed him by the shoulders, looking him up and down as though he knew something was different. Loki tried not to flinch, heartily glad for the pain medicine and cream that Stark had given him. He was sure he had not given himself away.

“You are well, brother?”

Loki nodded. He had to reply, or it would be suspicious, but he must not say anything that would arouse Thor's curiosity, or anything that would displease his master. Loki's mind was like mud, thick and heavy, and all he could think was to say Thor’s own words back to him.

“I am well, brother.”

Thor beamed at him, surprise lighting up his face. “It has been long since you have called me that. I have missed it.”

Loki forced himself to smile. He had not realized what he was saying, but it was all to the good. This would distract Thor from inquiring further after Loki’s status, and perhaps he would turn his attention to his business with Stark.

Thor did not turn away, instead running his thumbs lightly under Loki’s eyes, leaning in to look closely.

“Your eyes,” he said, and then he tipped Loki’s head to the side, checking his ears as well, seeing the gold rings missing. He had hopefully forgotten about the other jewelry that Stark had removed, and Loki was not about to remind him of it.

Thor turned to Stark. “You did this?”

“Yeah. It’s like you said, Loki can help, but we need to figure out the obedience disc first. This was a little test.”

“You did not seem to like the idea last night.” Thor's brow furrowed, one hand still on Loki’s shoulder, holding him in place. Loki almost felt sorry for Thor, trying to pit the hammer of his intellect against the sharpened stiletto of Stark's. It was not that Thor was stupid, but he was unused to weaving and unwrapping many layers of truth and deception. It was not in his nature.

Stark shrugged, as though such a decision were of little consequence. “I changed my mind. Loki and I talked some more, and it’s not like we have that many other options, anyway."

“Indeed, we do not.” Thor let go of Loki’s shoulder, his face grim. “We have few options at all. Almost none. That is why I am here. I was thinking to try again to persuade you, but if we are already of one mind on this, we can begin our plans.”

“ _ Our _ plans?”

“Of course!”

Thor paced the room, treating Stark’s home as though it were his own council chamber. Loki's head started to ache, sure that Stark would take his displeasure out on him later.

“Loki will need power to accomplish this feat, will he not?”

Stark and Thor both looked at him. Once again Loki dumbly repeated his brother’s words back to him, somehow thinking that if he did not speak any  _ new  _ words, he would be safe.

“I will need power.”

Neither of them commented on his limited contribution. Thor was too caught up in his planning and Stark was too well in control of himself to give away even a sharp look in Loki’s direction.

“Yeah, I  _ have  _ power, buddy.” Stark tapped his own chest during a moment of distraction. “I have a full size arc reactor in the basement. I have more power than you would know what to do with.”

Thor shook his head. “Nay. Loki does not need the power of Midgard. He needs the power of Yggdrasil. The power that he was weaned on, that flows in his veins, even now!”

He held up his arm, and Stormbreaker slammed into his hand, crackling with arcane energy. Loki could feel it, even in his limited state. The power of Yggdrasil was familiar and comfortable to him. It was as tempting as a warm ocean current that would carry him home.

“Nuh-uh.” Stark shook his head. “The arc reactor is the way to go. It’s steady, the level can be controlled down to the watt. That looks pretty hard to manage.”

“Well,” Thor said, spinning his axe in his hand, “Let us ask the one who will be wielding it, shall we?”

They both turned to Loki, and waited for his response.

At that moment, the only thing Loki could feel was despair that Thor was forcing him to make such a choice. If he chose Thor's offer, his master would be insulted and he would punish him. But if Loki chose the arc reactor, his magic may fail, and he would be punished then too. That dilemma was bad enough, but Loki realized that he had also not had a chance to tell his master that he could read again. His head throbbed, and the pressure behind his eyes mounted.

Something ran over his lip, and Loki wiped his face with the back of his hand. A blur of bright color caught his attention, and he looked down at the red smear on his skin.

It looked like blood.

Loki heard voices, muffled and distant. The room dimmed, and his vision tunneled down to his own hands. Another red spot dripped from his nose, slow and dreamlike, landing on his palm like a ruby. The room turned around him and he staggered, dizzy and disoriented. Someone grabbed him, and then there was only darkness.


	4. Chapter 54 - Chose

_ Someone give me a lemon to bite,  _ Loki thought vaguely to himself as he lay stretched out on Stark’s floor. He knew what was happening. A dreamlike, watchful, part of him could sense his racing pulse, the invisible weight crushing his chest, and the pressure in his head that felt like a volcano about to erupt.

He was having another panic attack. His body was unable to cope with the intensity of the stress he was under. It was too much. He had been washed by the tides for too long, dragged wherever the current took him, too afraid to strike out on his own. Too afraid to swim for shore. Well, he was going to drown out here in the unprotected open ocean if he did not save himself.

As though from above, he saw Stark fetch a damp cloth for his forehead, saw Thor take his limp hand and clutch it to his armored chest. It was obvious now that both of them were almost as broken as Loki was - crushed by grief and loss, and burdened by duties and expectations.

Loki closed his eyes, ignoring the commotion around him. He let it fall away and tried to focus. His body was failing him, but he could not let the same happen to his mind. He would end up a shambling wreck if he did, a pitiful, mindless  _ draugr  _ \- one of the walking dead.

Loki had been the prisoner of his body for too long, confined in the cursed box, drugged and hypnotized, his body modified, beaten, raped, impregnated. His body was marked and claimed by many others - Kuuth’s hatchlings were still in his guts, the obedience disk was in his neck, En Dwi Gast's tattoos were on his face. He still got on his knees for Stark, for his cock or for his belt, it made little difference anymore.

His body was a wreck, but he still was Loki. Transformation was his nature. To survive, he needed to shed this slave’s skin and find another.

It was time for change.

Loki sat up, looking Stark in the eye despite the tremble in his voice.

“I must use the energy of Yggdrasil to work my magic.”

He wiped the blood off his face with the back of his shaking hand.

“You cannot control it as you can control the power of your arc reactor, but you must know that you cannot control me, either. Not if you want me to work this magic. You must loosen my leash, there is no other way. If you do not, your wife will die.”

Stark opened his mouth to protest, but Loki did not let him.

“That is not a threat - it is a plain fact. I will do my best to save her, as you saved me. I give you my word on that. But you have gone too far and I will have no more threats from you. I will have no more beatings. I will not lie down for your pleasure. It is done. Allow me to use the magic of Yggdrasil, and do not put your hands on me ever again. These are my conditions for my assistance, and you would be wise to accept them.”

Stark just stared at him, open mouthed.

_ He looks at me as though I am a dog that has learned to talk. _

The thought was bitter in Loki's mind, because it was true. He  _ had  _ been a whipped dog at Stark’s heel, craving any scrap of kindness, and not just because of the crogall hormones.

“Beatings?” Thor's face was a thundercloud about to unleash a storm, but Loki had no patience for him.

“Yes, brother. Beatings. Do not act as though you have never done it yourself. I have angered you often enough to know the consequences.”

“We were younger,” Thor said. “I did not intend…”

Loki scrambled to his feet, leaning on the wall to support himself, his limb weak and leaden. “Yes, you did not intend. Well, no matter your intentions, both of you are alike. Both of you find me displeasing and both of you hurt me for it.”

Loki picked up the wet washcloth and wiped his face, cleaning the mixture of blood and tears, and taking a moment to catch his breath and calm himself. His pent up anger and frustration was boiling up out of him, seemingly out of nowhere. The floodgates had been opened at the thought of having to make a simple choice, driving his body almost to shut down at the stress of it. It was such a small thing, to crack him open like an egg when he had suffered so much worse, but even that one small thing was too much.

It was the final drop of water that swept him away, and opened his eyes as to how far he had fallen. He would be ground to dust if he did not fight back. He would be nothing but mindless, thoughtless, living meat. Stark may as well put him in the box, as make him live like this, in subservient terror and shame.

The box. The Box.  _ The Box. _

The tide had turned now, and Loki would not live in fear. He staggered as he walked to the door. He was dizzy, not yet recovered from his panic attack, but he could no more stop himself than he could stop breathing.

He could feel the cold air blowing underneath the door, as it always did, cold tendrils that tried to tug him closer. Well, now they would get their wish. Loki put one hand on the door handle, shaking so much much he could hardly grip it, his palm slick with sweat. He turned it, pushed the door with his shoulder and walked in, Thor and Stark behind him, drawn along in his wake.

The box was there, just as he remembered it. It was as he had first seen it on Sakaar - gleaming chrome and bulbous tubes, a living thing, a squat fly-trap, eager to consume its victim.

Thor had not seen it before, and he stepped back, horrified.

“What is this?”

His voice was raw in his throat. He would have liked to pretend ignorance of what he had left Loki to endure. But he knew. He knew. He knew.

“This is what you left me to, brother.”

Loki put his hands on his hips, forcing his feet to stay planted, fighting his rising nausea.

“En Dwi Gast put me in this thing for a year. Do you want to know how it works?”

Thor shook his head, but Loki did not care. He opened the case and showed them the interior, the functions all too clear - the straps, the two plugs, the sheath, the cutouts for head and hips - all of it repulsive and grotesque. Loki stared at it, his breath like glue in his chest. He had lived in that thing. He had been a part of it, installed inside it, a machine made flesh.

“This is what you threaten me with,” he said to Stark, without turning around. He could not tear his eyes away from it. It seemed to draw him in, inviting, as though he were looking down a steep drop and tempted to throw himself in. He shook his head, trying to clear the buzzing in his ears. “Well, will you do it? Shall I get in?’

Stark shook his head, pale.

“No? You took most of the eggs out of my belly, I am sure I would fit inside it now. You would not like to have me as your perfectly helpless, perfectly available little toy? No? En Dwi Gast liked it, he raped me himself, he gave me to anyone who wanted me! He let them line up out the door to fuck me and there was nothing I could do about it!”

Loki was yelling now, losing control. Tears fell from his eyes, and anger pulsed through him - rage at what he had suffered, at the torture he had been put through merely for the entertainment of others, as though his pain meant nothing, as though he were disposable, worthless.

“I’m sorry,” Stark said, pulling himself together enough to respond to Loki's tirade. “I shouldn't have said that. I don't know what came over me last night. I won't do that.”

“Will you not? Should I believe you now? Or should I believe you last night? You can do it if you want to, Stark. I could not stop him and I could not stop you! Have Friday put me down and you can lock me in there. You can take my sight, you can take my hearing. You can make me blind, deaf, and mute, and you can use me entirely for your pleasure, anytime you want. You want to fuck me? Just do it. You want my mouth? Why not. Do it. You want to take your belt and whip my balls again until I scream? Did you enjoy that?”

Thunder crashed outside. “Again?”

Loki waved his hand at Thor. It did not matter. Stark had done it and he could do it again if he chose to. Thor may try to stop him but he had not succeeded in keeping Loki safe so far. Loki was at Stark's mercy and he would have no more of it.

He would be free, or he would have Stark carry out his threat. Loki would no longer live in terror, he would not bow and kneel and offer his body to please his master, thinking that was better than the box. It was not - he knew that now. Slavery would destroy him either way, and he could not live with this threat over his head.

“Do you accept my terms, Stark, or are you going to put me back in En Dwi Gast's box? Which is it to be?


End file.
